


Maybe One Day.....

by angededesespoir



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: .....kinda; it's just gonna take time, Angst, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Love, alcohol mention, implied/referenced trauma, mentions of aoba and ryuuhou implied, needle mention, smoking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: And maybe if you go through the motions enough, one day it will get easier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Writes this instead of working on my Nanowrimo story* Oh, hey, look- another attempt at trying to write something nsfw.
> 
> (This can also be read [here](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/152994541000/maybe-one-day).)

He is exhaling, smoke curling through the air.  His head is pounding and he welcomes the distraction.

He still remembers the burning liquid gulped down like water at an oasis; the courage finally mustered for another night; the hands tearing at clothes- _too tight, too much_ ; the teeth sharply marking neck; the blur of faces flickering behind his eyes until he manages to settle on the right one, imprints it in his mind.    
It’s _Mizuki_ pushing him onto the bed, _Mizuki_ ’s lips trailing kisses down his chest, _Mizuki_ ’s mouth enveloping his cock, tongue gliding, teasing. It's _Mizuki_ 's hair he grabs, it's _Mizuki_ he pulls into a kiss, flips over, caresses and prepares. It's _Mizuki_ 's voice moaning his name, encouraging him, begging him. 

He tries to remember this, catches himself biting back another familiar name. Tries to remember that the hand clutching his as he comes belongs to the one under him, and not the one in his head. 

He closes his eyes, rubs at his head wearily, cringing at the memory. How the man pressed against him after, hands tracing the marks of a demon. How he hoped Mizuki didn't notice the way he tensed, fingernails digging into sheets. It's been years and he _still_ cannot wash away the memory of the _monster_ claiming him- the way his needles stabbed and his words dug deep. 

His hand trembles as he extinguishes the cigarette. 

He returns to the room, goes through the motions of covering skin, brushing hair, preparing tools. 

  


When Mizuki wakes, he finds a familiar sight- empty bed, note nearby. 

His head settles back onto pillow, arm draping over space where Koujaku should be. 

He tries not to think how this has become a routine, of how many drinks must be consumed before they can proceed, how his words of love are always met with silence. 

 ‘ _It will take time,’_ he thinks.  ‘ _It will take time.’_

He closes his eyes and falls into repeated dream, willing the lines to blur, for _one day_ to come now.


End file.
